


It Has To Be a Dream

by Njaybird



Category: An Ember in the Ashes - Sabaa Tahir
Genre: Dream Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Fantasy, Rare Fandoms, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23155726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Njaybird/pseuds/Njaybird
Summary: What if Laia and Elias hadn’t been interrupted during ~that scene~ in Reaper...? This little fantasy picks up in the middle of the scene and is from Laia’s POV
Relationships: Laia of Serra/Elias Veturius, Laia/Elias Veturius
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	It Has To Be a Dream

Elias has me half-undressed when he stops, draws back, and presses his hands into his temples. 

“You’re right,” he says, “this isn’t a dream. I am here. This is real, but it shouldn’t be.” 

I raise myself up on my elbows, confused by his change in mood. Who cares if it’s real or a dream or whatever as long as he’s here? 

“Elias, it has to be a dream. Or we couldn’t do this.” I reach up to stroke along his hairline. “But it is the best dream. You’re exactly like you.” 

His expression softens, the crease between his brows—which I could swear wasn’t there the last time I saw him—smooths. He kisses me, soft and slow, and draws his teeth along my lower lip. 

“That’s better,” I sigh, reaching for him. “Now, where were we?” 

He laughs his rich, deep laugh, and drops his head to leave a kiss between my breasts. I arch against him, wanting more. 

“Skies, Laia, do you know what you’re doing to me?” His mouth is on my breast now, teasing around the hardened nipple. I gasp, unable to form words. 

Elias’s hands, sure and strong, move over my ribs and down to my hips. His fingers hook under the waistband of my trousers and slide them down over my legs. I can hardly breathe. I am intoxicated by the warmth of his broad hands around my thighs, the movement of his mouth over my nipple. 

“Elias, please—“ 

He grins against my skin and slides his hand between my legs. He groans, and I decide I want to hear him make that sound every day for the rest of my life. And then his fingers are inside me and I cannot think, cannot do anything but call out his name as his mouth and his hands send pure pleasure shooting through my body. 

My hands don’t know where to go — I reach up for the wall behind me, down to twist my fingers in his hair. I am lost to the feel of him, the smell and sound of him as he moans against my breast, the weight of his body over mine. 

His mouth begins to move back up my body, lingering over my collarbones, nipping along my neck and jaw. His fingers never stop spreading, curling, stroking — I whimper as he moves over a particularly sensitive spot, and he lets out another delicious, deep groan. 

“Are you ready for me, Laia?” he growls in my ear. 

I cannot form words, his hands and his mouth and the stubble on his face have reduced me to sighs and moans. I pull on his hair and arch against him, desperate for more of him. 

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. “Tell me what you want.” 

“You—“ I gasp, “please. I need you inside me.” 

He kisses me behind my ear, then on the mouth, his tongue moving with mine. And suddenly, our bodies are one. 

Elias breaks our kiss and rests his forehead against mine. His strong arms frame my shoulders, his fingers dipping into my hair. His eyes are large and dark, his lips red and swollen. He looks otherworldly. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted—?” 

I reach up to cup his face with both hands. “Tell me,” I whisper, pulling him down for another kiss. “Show me.” 

He starts to move, slowly at first. I moan against his mouth. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

“Yes, yes, Elias—“ 

“Burning skies, Laia—“ 

When I tug on his hair, he growls and starts to move faster. He slides one hand down to where our bodies are joined and draws his thumb across the apex of my sex. I cry out, and he does it again. Again. 

“Laia, I’m—ah, yes, yes—“

“So close, Elias, please—“ 

He slips his other hand under my hips and changes his angle and—

“Oh hells yes—I can’t —“

The tension that has been building in my body for an eternity, since the first time he kissed me in his quarters at Blackcliff, snaps, and I am soaring. I am crying out, calling his name, clinging to him as he finds his own release. 

We hold each other a long time, breathing together, savouring the time that we know will be all-too-brief. 

“You are my temple,” he whispers into my ear. “You are my priest. You are my prayer. You are my —“ 

And he is gone. 

I awake alone in my bed, rubbing sleep from my eyes. 

I turn over, looking for any evidence that he really was here, that it wasn’t all a dream. 

“Elias?”


End file.
